


sk8ter boi

by petitepeach



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: AU, Banter, M/M, Prompt Fill, lucas is a sassy little shit but that's not au, skater boy!eliott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2020-06-24 08:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19719829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petitepeach/pseuds/petitepeach
Summary: began as a prompt -"have i entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile at me?"turned into multi-chap au





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> saw that vid of max skateboarding through the streets of paris.
> 
> thus the fic.

Lucas has his headphones in, volume high, and he’s sitting on a set of concrete steps, eyes glaring into the back of Yann’s head.

Glaring because Yann is taking _forever_ , even though he was the one who suggested that Lucas meet him at the skatepark before they grabbed lunch. But when Lucas arrived, he’d just waved, and skated away. Now Yann is rolling back on forth on his board, casual as you please, talking like he’s got all day.

And while the June sunshine is warm and pleasant on Lucas’s face, it’s been almost fifteen minutes and Lucas is _hungry_. He’s about five seconds away from marching over to Yann and forcibly removing him from the park.

Because Lucas is hungry. And he’s bored. It has nothing to do with the fact that Yann is talking to Eliott _fucking_ Demaury.

Lucas watches with narrowed eyes as Yann says something that makes Eliott laugh, ducking his head down towards his chest. He’s wearing a snapback, leaning against his upright board in a way that makes the muscles on his arms stand out. Lucas can’t be sure but it looks like he has a new tattoo. Something that might be music notes. He’s so perfect it physically hurts.

Fuck’s sake.

_What is your problem with Eliott_ , Yann had asked him a few weeks ago. _Why do you hate him?_

_I don’t hate him_ , Lucas had responded, which was true, despite how Lucas was always insulting Eliott about something, always making fun of him.

It’s not hate. It’s so completely the opposite of that, so far into another galaxy, but Lucas also doesn’t trust him. Someone who is as good-looking, charming, and popular as Eliott Demaury must be an asshole. There must be something up with him, at least some sort of unbearable entitlement that comes from the whole world being in love with you. Lucas sees it all the time; in the way teachers give Eliott homework extensions without any fuss, in the way the cafeteria workers always give Eliott extra noodles at lunch, in the way a legion of fans follow Eliott around the school, sighing at his every step. He gets treated like a fucking _prince_. 

And Lucas won’t be another face in the sea of Eliott’s admirers. He won’t. He can’t.

So it’s up to Lucas to keep reminding Eliott that, actually, he ain’t shit, because clearly no one else is going to do it. And if Lucas is able to hide himself, hide his eyes and his laugh and his blush and how he can barely control those things around Eliott, then all the better.

It would just be so much easier if Yann wasn’t friends with him.

As if they can hear this thoughts, both Yann and Eliott turn to look at Lucas, Yann grinning in a way that makes Lucas nervous.

_What?_ He mouths, frowning at them.

Yann turns to say something to Eliott, head bent low, and Lucas watches as Eliott’s brow furrows, his fingers tapping at his lips in a nervous gesture Lucas has become all too familiar with.

Not that he’s been looking. Lucas is just observant. Very observant.

Eliott glances back at Lucas. His hand is back at his side, but his eyebrows are still furrowed, eyes so focused they make Lucas shift awkwardly on the spot. He’s never been the centre of Eliott’s attention like this, has never had those infamous eyes so focused on himself. It makes his chest feel too tight for his lungs.

For no reason at all, Lucas flips him off.

Eliott grins, wide and crooked, as sudden and sharp as lightning.

He drops his board back down to the ground, he’s stepping onto it, Yann calls something after him, and Lucas realizes he’s coming over; Eliott is skating over to where Lucas is sitting, wide grin still in place.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Lucas pauses his music and takes his headphones out.

“Hi,” Eliott says, coming to a stop in front of him. He kicks his board up and catches it with one hand, leaning it back against his leg.

Lucas raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Eliott laughs and shrugs at the same time, a combination of gestures so at odds with Eliott’s outward appearance, with the black clothes and tattoos and intimidating model-esque height. “Yann said you looked bored.”

“I am bored.” Lucas winds his headphones into a ball and stuffs them into his pocket. “I want to go eat, but apparently Yann needs another fucking hour to roll around on a wooden plank.”

Eliott throws a hand out to the park. “You mean this isn’t exciting for you? Your standards are so high, Lallemant. Would you rather be at an opera?”

“I would just rather not spend my time watching stupid boys fall onto the pavement, thanks.”

“That’s funny. I thought you’d be used to it now.” At Lucas’s frown, Eliott adds, “Having boys fall for you.”

Lucas bites down on his cheek. Hard. “Is that supposed to be a compliment of some sort?” Lucas leans back onto his hands. “If it is, I think everyone might seriously be overselling your charm.”

“Oh, everyone? Everyone talks about how charming I am?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. He’s getting his bearings back, taking shallow breaths so Eliott doesn’t notice, but he’s thrown off—he’s not as quick as he usually is. “As if you don’t know.”

Eliott’s shrugs again, and his shoulders stay rounded forwards, his whole body hunching. “Yeah, I hear some things. I don’t know why…” Eliott huffs and runs one hand through his hair. The motion makes his bicep bunch up in a terribly appealing way, but Lucas barely notices, too busy watching Eliott’s face, watching a complicated series of expressions pass over it.

It makes him wonder.

“Maybe you’re right.” Eliott says. “I’m not that charming. Or at least, not charming to the right people.”

Lucas blinks. He’s not even completely sure what they’re talking about anymore. “Who are the right people?”

“Arnaud, obviously.”

Arnaud. The middle-aged security guard at their school with the perpetual scowl on his face, who seems to hate teenagers more than anything else in the world.

Lucas bites down on his cheek again, but he’s too late, there’s a runaway smile he can’t catch.

Eliott notices.

“Oh my god.” His eyes widen dramatically. His hands fly up to his chest and his board clatters down to the ground. “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile at me?”

Lucas is fighting himself and he is _losing_. He can feel the way his mouth is twitching at the corners. He tilts his face up towards the blue sky, shaking his head. “Must be an alternate universe.”

“Well.” Eliott’s voice is quiet, his next words coming out in a rush. “Is this an alternate universe where you’ll agree to go on a date with me?”

Lucas snaps his head back down, so quickly a sharp pain shoots up his neck.

_What._

Eliott has his hands in his pockets, eyes moving from the ground, up to Lucas, and back down.

“What.” Lucas says with absolutely no inflection. His chest is about to split open. He might faint. “Eliott, what are you—”

“So, yeah.” Eliott interrupts him, clearing his throat, moving his hands out from his pockets, then immediately stuffing them back in. “I, uh. I was wondering if you…maybe, uh, wanted to go on a date.” There’s a pause. “Together. If that wasn’t obvious.”

Lucas’s entire world has just been turned on its axis and he’s sure his mouth is hanging open, because _what the hell is going on?_ He and Eliott don’t even, they don’t—

“But we hate each other,” Lucas blurts out. Eliott frowns at that, and Lucas’s voice rises an octave. “Don’t we?”

“No. At least, I don’t.” Eliott’s board is slowly rolling away from him, rattling towards a downward ramp, but neither of them notice. “I always thought it was—” A self-conscious cough. “I always thought that was flirting? Like, this whole time I thought we were flirting. Were we not flirting?”

_Flirting._ Christ on a cross, maybe Lucas has slipped into another dimension by accident, because surely this isn’t happening to _him_.

They stare at each other, incomprehension hanging between them; Lucas still in shock, Eliott looking increasingly uncomfortable.

“If you’re not interested,” Eliott starts, voice resigned, shoulders drooping, and no, Lucas doesn’t like that, he’s not totally sure what’s happening, but he doesn’t like _that_ , “then that’s fine, obviously, I wouldn’t expect you to—”

“Oh my god.” Lucas interrupts him loudly, hands stretched out in front of him. “Eliott what the fuck, I’m not going to say _no_.”

Eliott stops. Blinks. “No?”

“ _No_. Fucking hell. You—why would I say no?”

Eliott’s hands fly out to his sides, “I don’t know! Because you don’t like me! Because you thought we were actually arguing? That we hated each other?”

Lucas groans. “Oh, no. Eliott.” He drops his face into his hands. He doesn’t want to say this, but he thinks he might have to. “Eliott.” There’s an uncontrollable giggle bubbling out of his chest, like the pressure there is starting to lessen, pieces of painful longing being released with giddy breaths. “I’ve had a crush on you for months.” Lucas says helplessly into his palms, as if the words can be caught there, kept secret in the creases of his skin rather than reaching Eliott’s ears.

Eliott’s voice is quiet when he says, “Months?”

“Almost a year,” Lucas says, because dignity is something other people have. “Me and literally everyone else on the planet. So.”

“I don’t care about everyone else.”

Lucas scoffs, lifting his head from his hands. “Please.”

“I’m serious.” Eliott’s eyes are intense on him; shards of icy blue that Lucas can feel under his skin. How many times has Lucas thought about those eyes, and then immediately beat himself up for thinking about those eyes? “I’m asking you out, Lucas. Because I like you. I really do.”

“What the _fuck_.”

Eliott frowns. “Okay, you just said you’re not saying no but I have to say this doesn’t really feel like a yes.”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

“See? You’re still being mean to me.”

Lucas abruptly stands from his perch, clambers down the few stairs separating him from Eliott until he’s right in front of him. Eliott’s hands are rising like he’s worried Lucas is about to tackle him.

Lucas is considering it, he won’t lie, but he needs to—

He needs this moment to happen again. He needs to say it because it’s Eliott and Lucas has been pretending that he’s not in love with Eliott for so long.

_In love—_

“Ask me again.” He demands, eyes boring into Eliott’s, cheeks flushing, hands practically shaking at his sides. “Eliott. Ask me again.”

Eliott nods once. Twice. “Okay.” His hands lower, hanging limply at his sides. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Yes.” Lucas says evenly. Clearly. 

A wide, pleased smile blooms across Eliott’s face. “That’s good,” he says in a small voice, and Lucas realizes Eliott is reaching for him, fingertips seconds away from touching Lucas’s t-shirt and he knows he will absolutely _combust_ if Eliott touches him—it’s all too overwhelming already, Lucas is a shooting star afire with impossibility and he is _burning_ —so he slips away, dancing past Eliott towards the rest of the park. 

Eliott is staring after him, hands frozen in the air, fingers extended out.

A shiver wracks Lucas’s entire body when he thinks about those hands touching him, those fingers dancing across his skin. Not now. Oh god, not now. But maybe…

“When do you want to go on a date?” He asks, slowly walking backwards.

“Tonight.” Eliott says immediately and Lucas laughs, his chest cracked wide open, breaths caught on the breeze. “Are you free tonight?”

Lucas is not free tonight. He and Yann were going to play video games but really, he and Yann play videos games every Saturday, so.

“I might be.” He replies easily, adopting Eliott’s shrug for himself, acting like he’s not burning from the inside out, like Eliott’s gaze isn’t an ice cube sliding across his heated skin, melted drops trailing down his back. 

“I’ll message you.” Eliott calls out, and Lucas flips him off, just because he can, before he turns his back on Eliott, half-running over to where he can see Yann, leaning against a railing with his arms crossed and a smug expression on his face.

“I _knew_ you liked him,” Yann croons when Lucas gets close enough.

“Whatever.”

He and Yann have barely made it out of the skatepark, Lucas bitching at Yann about how hungry he is, about how Yann definitely has to pay for his lunch now, when his phone buzzes with a DM from Instagram.

Lucas opens it.

**srodluv:** hi 

**srodluv:** do you still want to go on a date with me?

**srodluv:** how does 8 p.m. sound? i’ll pick you up?

**lucallemant:** yeah no thanks i changed my mind

**srodluv:** D:

**lucallemant:** ew don’t use the capital D face

**srodluv:** D: D: D:

**lucallemant:** 8 is fine

**lucallemant:** ~~i’m so excited~~

**lucallemant:** when you say pick me up

**lucallemant:** you better mean a car

**lucallemant:** or walking

**lucallemant:** not a skateboard

**srodluv:** :D

**lucallemant:** eliott

**srodluv:** :D :D :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~the date~

He gets endless shit from Yann about it. All through their lunch, over the course of their walk to Lucas’s street, and then over text five hours later.

His phone buzzes as he stands in front of his mirror, pulling at the material of his t-shirt and pretending like the mess of clothes piled onto his bed doesn’t exist.

 **y4z4s:** lol how many times have u changed

 **y4z4s:** lulu don’t worry ur beautiful no matter what <3333

 **lucallemant:** die in a ditch <3333

 **y4z4s:** LOL ur so grumpy u r nervous!!!!!!

 **lucallemant:** and u r annoying 

**lucallemant:** shouldn’t you worry about your own love life

 **lucallemant:** oh that’s right it’s because you don’t have one

 **y4z4s:** uh huh

 **y4z4s:** u can send me pics if u want and i’ll vote on them

 **y4z4s** : no forget it i already kno wear the black jeans they make ur ass look nice

 **y4z4s:** luluuuuuu

 **y4z4s:** lucas

 **y4z4s:** did u hear me the black jeans

 **y4z4s:** show demaury the goods

 **lucallemant:** you’re gross go away

Lucas throws his phone down onto his bed, ignoring another rapid succession of buzzes.

He doesn’t care about dressing up for Eliott. He doesn’t. Eliott knows what Lucas looks like. He’s not going to act any differently if Lucas wears one thing or another. Eliott will probably show up wearing a stupid beanie anyway, and somehow looking completely perfect, because he’s just like that.

Whatever. He’s trying to keep perspective. Eliott is Eliott. And that means that Lucas must be one in a line of hundreds of people Eliott can date. 

Perspective. As in trying not to act like the very thought of it, the memory of the way Eliott’s mouth formed the words, _I really like you_ , doesn’t make him want to throw himself into a swimming pool.

But perspective also tells him that, _yeah, there might be hundreds of other people, but they’re not the ones going on a date tonight, are they?_

So maybe Lucas does put on the black jeans. And maybe he does check himself out before he leaves his bedroom. Maybe he does smile to himself when he sees Eliott’s, _downstairs!_ text, slipping out of the front door before Mika can ask him where he’s going.

He takes a breath before he opens the front door to his building, schooling his face to something neutral.

He’s glad he does it, because he’s not ready for what awaits him when he opens the door.

Eliott, leaning against a lamp post, wearing a button-up shirt with half of its buttons undone, hair wild and eyes low, lit up in orange and gold from the sun just beginning to set. 

He looks…cool. Unapproachable. Like the Eliott that Lucas sees at school. Like the sort of person who can waltz through life on the tops of clouds. Like the sort of person Lucas could only ever sneak glances at across rooms. 

But he looks up, sees Lucas, and his face splits into a big, toothy smile, and the effect is gone. Lucas doesn’t know what’s worse. The beautiful, unapproachable Eliott, or the Eliott who smiles like a dork.

“What,” Lucas calls out to him, across the stretch of empty sidewalk between them, “the hell are you wearing?”

Eliott glances down at himself, tugs on the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t like it?”

He doesn’t move from the lamp post so Lucas goes to him, short steps crossing that empty stretch of sidewalk until he’s close enough to get a good look at Eliott, to see how his cheeks are a bit pink, how his eyes are grey-green in the light.

Lucas is close enough to touch him, so he does, poking him once in the chest, where the shirt is gaping open. “Showing a lot of cleavage, don’t you think?”

“What can I say, I know what the boys like.” Eliott laughs, and before Lucas can pull his hand away he’s grabbing onto his finger, then folded Lucas’s hand into his own and tugging him forward, closer, closer, until Lucas is pressed right up against him, wrapped in his arms.

It happens so quickly, Lucas not touching Eliott, then touching him only a little bit, then being so surrounded by Eliott that it’s overwhelming. Lucas can feel the hard planes of his chest, can feel how warm his skin is, can smell him, and he smells a bit like cologne, something fresh and masculine, and a bit like cigarettes, and a bit like sweat and Lucas kinda wants to lick his neck and _oh what the fuck_ where did that thought come from—

Lucas is not prepared for this.

He can feel himself locking up, arms straight down at his sides, neck stiff, eyes open wide. It’s just so much, is the thing. So much when Lucas has spent the better part of a year convincing himself that he doesn’t like Eliott, that Eliott is nothing more than a well-worn fantasy to pick up during boring classes and long bus rides. 

But Eliott is here, now, holding him, nuzzling into Lucas’s hair and sighing as though they’ve done this before, as though they’ve been doing this, touching like this, when all of their interactions before were handshakes bound in barbed wire.

“You smell nice,” Eliott tells him, voice close to Lucas’s ear, breath warm on his neck. 

Lucas shivers. He’s thrown off by the hug, by the contact and affection, and he’s getting a little lost in it, thinking about falling into Eliott without abandon, _here we go—_

He just starts to lift his hands, fingers reaching for Eliott’s back, when Eliott steps away, hands sliding away from Lucas and Lucas’s own arms are back at his sides and they’re staring at each other in the golden light, Lucas’s entire body a live wire of tension.

“So, are you hungry?” Eliott asks, bouncing on the spot. “There’s this cool place I’ve been to with the guys before; they do like, street food? It’s basically a fancy food truck but it’s so good, I swear.”

“Uh, yeah.” Lucas glances up and down the street, eyes dancing everywhere except right at Eliott’s face. “I could eat.”

“Cool.” Eliott steps away and bends towards the lamp post, and picking up his skateboard, tucking it under his arm.

“Oh no,” Lucas says, voice coming back to him, because really, “you did not bring that.”

“What? Celeste?” Eliott holds his board out and of fucking course he has a name for his board because he’s not cool, he’s a fucking loser. “She comes everywhere with me.”

“Oh, _Celeste_.” Lucas lets his eyes go wide. “I mean, if you’d rather be alone with her, I can go back inside.”

“At least she doesn’t make fun of me. She supports me. Literally and figuratively.”

“Does she sleep in your bed at night, too?”

“No.” Eliott’s eyes cut sharply to Lucas, mouth quirked in a teasing half-smile. “But you can, if you want.”

Lucas nearly chokes on his own tongue, only just managing to mask it with a cough into his fist.

Eliott looks far too pleased with himself.

“In your fucking dreams, Demaury,” Lucas says, and he doesn’t think he sounds that convincing so he turns away from Eliott, starts walking left, towards downtown. “Don’t we have somewhere to be?”

“Yeah,” Eliott yells after him, and Lucas can hear his board rolling across the pavement. “Except you’re going the wrong way.”

It is with great dignity that Lucas turns around and strides past where Eliott is waiting and flips him off with both hands.

Eliott takes him towards the area of town where the skatepark is, but they drift into a neighbourhood Lucas isn’t familiar with, one that has hip-looking bars mixed in with old apartment buildings and small parks.

It’s busy on the street, as everywhere in Paris is on a summer night, patios heaving and laughter carrying across a gentle breeze.

Everywhere Lucas looks, there are couples: walking hand-in-hand, sitting next to each other at tiny round tables, kissing on street corners.

He and Eliott pass one couple doing just that, Eliott holding his board under his arm again, telling Lucas how he and Idriss and Sofiane come here all the time, and Lucas makes a face at them, partially because he’s disgusted, and partially because he is, the tiniest bit, envious. There’s about a foot of space between him and Eliott. There has been ever since they started walking, and while the conversation is flowing a lot better since Lucas was able to get a hold of his few remaining brain cells, they probably look like they’re just friends.

It’s Lucas’s fault maybe, because he’s in his default snarking-Eliott mode, but it does make him wonder.

“Lucas?” 

Eliott has a hand resting at the small of Lucas’s back, and he’s gently guiding him across the street, to where Lucas can see a truck parked at the side of an empty parking lot, with a bright neon sign on the front of it. There’s a line of people waiting for food and at least half a dozen picnic tables set up in the parking lot, surrounded by strings of fairy lights. Lucas can hear music coming faintly from the inside of the truck. Something he can’t place.

He has to admit, this is not bad.

Eliott’s hand has dropped from his back but he’s grinning when he looks down at Lucas. “Now I know you have high standards, Lallemant—”

Lucas snorts.

“—but the food here is amazing. Trust me. It’s Moroccan food that even Idriss approves of, and he says everything is shit except what his mom makes.”

“If I had high standards,” Lucas says cheerily, patting Eliott on the chest, “then I wouldn’t be on a date with you.”

Eliott cackles at that, tipping his head back, and Lucas tucks his pleased smile away into his own shoulder. 

“You’re so mean,” Eliott says, but he’s smiling, smiling at Lucas like Lucas is the best thing he’s ever seen. It wreaks havoc on Lucas’s heart.

So Lucas coughs, breaks his gaze away from Eliott’s, and goes to the truck to find a menu. 

Eliott follows him, stopping behind Lucas in line and bending down to murmur in his ear, “Do you want to share a few things?”

Lucas is vibrating at a low frequency at this point, but he says yes, actually, he would because there are about three things on the menu he wants to try, so that’s what they do.

They find two spots at the end of a picnic bench, where the only other occupants are two girls sharing a big plate of food, laughing when one of them manages to get a glob of hummus on her chin, the other one wiping it off with a napkin.

Eliott asks if they’re saving the table, and the girls say, _no, that’s fine, all yours_ , and Eliott and Lucas sit across from each other at the opposite end.

“So, do you like it?” Eliott asks, face eager.

Lucas nods. “Yeah,” he says, glancing around the parking lot, then to the truck, where he can see a young woman and a man cooking, laughing, and the other young woman who took their orders hollering something back to them. “It’s cool.”

Eliott grins. “Cool.”

“Seems like the type of place you would come to,” Lucas continues, because he can’t just leave things. “Being such a hipster and all.”

Eliott genuinely looks offended. “I am not a hipster.”

“Oh no? Mr. Skateboard Artist? Your music taste would beg to differ.”

“When,” Eliott narrows his eyes, “have you ever heard my music taste?”

Lucas pauses, takes a slow slip of the beer he ordered. “I’ve seen some of your instagram stories.” He shrugs, takes another sip of beer. “That’s not a surprise, you can see who watches them.”

“I never really look at that.”

Lucas sighs. “Of course you don’t.”

Eliott leans onto his forearms, his body stretching across the table. “Do you ever listen to the songs? After you see them on my story?”

Yes. “No.”

Eliott’s eyes are lethal. “So if I said that there’s one song that I posted because it reminds me of you, you would have no idea which one?”

Lucas swallows. Tries to control his exhale. “Let me guess. It’s that song called ‘Mean’, the one Daphy always listens to.”

Eliott shakes his head. He leans back on the bench, pulling a cigarette out from behind his ear and lighting it, smoke curling around his face. “No,” is all he says. “It’s not that.”

Their food arrives, four steaming plates dropped at their table that have Lucas’s mouth watering.

They both dig in, hands getting messy, satisfied groans coming from deep in their throats.

“Alright,” Lucas concedes after he bites into a spicy dish that sends him straight to the heavens. “This food is incredible. Not a bad spot, Demaury.”

“So glad it meets your approval, Lucas.”

The way he says his name, the way his voice sounds as it holds the word _Lucas_ , makes Lucas shift awkwardly on the bench. Maybe it’s the food, or the beer, or the atmosphere of the night around them, but Lucas feels good. So good his few brain cells have decided to take off. That’s the only explanation for him saying, “I’m happy you asked me.”

Eliott’s in the middle of drinking from his own beer bottle, and a bit dribbles out onto his chin. “What?” Eliott asks, laughing, wiping his chin. “Do you mean to say that you, Lucas Lallemant, are happy to be out with me on a date?”

“Nope. Didn’t say that.” Lucas can feel himself smiling, the same way he did back in the skatepark, unable to control it. “You’re hearing things.”

“Sure, sure.” They’re smiling at each other over the table, over the nearly-empty plates and the pile of napkins. “I’m happy you said yes.” Eliott says, and it’s Lucas’s turn to almost choke on his beer. “I wanted to ask you out for so long, you know. But you…you make me nervous.”

He says it so easily, like it costs nothing to be honest, like he’s not aware that the two girls have quieted their conversation and are clearly eavesdropping.

“I make _you_ nervous?” Lucas sputters. “Are you not Eliott Demaury, resident golden boy of the school? What have you done with him?”

“I don’t think of myself as…” Eliott trails off and waves a hand at Lucas. “I’m no golden boy, or anything. I’m not. And you make me nervous because I really like you. Because I think you’re really cool.”

Listen.

Lucas has a science concentration. He genuinely, without irony, loves space, and plays video games all the time, and spends far too many nights on Wikipedia conspiracy theory pages, and honestly, is pretty shit at football. Lucas has never been called cool in his entire life.

“You’re so weird,” he murmurs, eyes wide and disbelieving on Eliott. “You really are.” He lowers his beer back down to the table, eyes following the motion, still down when he says, so quietly he hopes Eliott will miss it, “I like you so much.”

Of course Eliott hears it. And of course the girls at the other end of the table hear it too, both letting out _awwww’s_ that make Lucas’s cheeks flush.

“Reminds me of us,” one girl says to the other, who shushes her with a giggle. They both stand from the table, gather their plates, and leave, their held hands swinging between them, one of them glancing back at Lucas to wink before they disappear from the parking lot.

Lucas hesitantly glances back up at Eliott, who’s leaning on his forearms again, his smile small, and his eyes burning. They’re still the colour of ice but they’re so warm, in the way they travel across Lucas’s face, down his neck, and back up again. They’re not cooling on Lucas’s skin anymore, they’re setting him alight from the inside out.

“Hey,” Eliott says, voice low, smooth. “Let’s get out of here.”

Lucas licks his lips. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere.”

Yeah, that’s… “Okay.”

They collect their plates and bottles and drop them in the bins back at the truck. They turn right when they leave, with no particular destination in mind, both of them wanting to be moving, looking to expel the wild, anticipatory energy manifesting between them. Eliott’s arm brushes against Lucas’s and it feels like lightning dancing across his skin.

Eliott turns them again, onto a much quieter street, with a park on one side and a row of tall, narrow houses on the other. Lucas can hear music coming from a few open windows, faint laughter spilling out into the night, but he can’t see anyone, other than a man walking his dog further down the road.

They cut into an empty basketball court that opens up onto a small, flat field. The sun is far down on the horizon now, the sky painted with pastel swaths of pink, purple, yellow and blue. Eliott’s on his board, skating lazy circles around where Lucas walks, laughing when Lucas rolls his eyes after he does a kick flip.

“You look stupid,” Lucas says, and Eliott rolls to a stop in front of him, cutting off his path. 

“You think so?” Eliott asks. Teasing, always teasing.

“Yeah, I do.”

Eliott steps off his board. Kicks it up. “You know, you shit talk skateboarding so much for someone who’s never tried it.”

Lucas makes a face. “How do you know I’ve never tried it?”

“Please.” Eliott says it like its obvious, and maybe it is, but Lucas has his reasons. Yann has been trying to get him into skateboarding for years, but Lucas could never be bothered to try it. And yeah, maybe, maybe he doesn’t want to fall. He hates the idea of it.

“Well, whatever.” Lucas says testily, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t need to try it to know it looks stupid.”

“Mhm.” Eliott narrows his eyes at Lucas. “You’re scared.”

“I am not.”

“Yes you are.”

“I am not fucking scared.”

“Alright.” Eliott shrugs, smiling. “If you say so.” His voice is a sing-song on the last sentence, the tone so clearly conveying _i don’t believe you_ that it makes Lucas bristle. It’s the type of tone that always gets his back up. Makes him do stupid things.

“Give me that thing,” he grumbles, snatching the board from Eliott and dropping it to the ground. He hesitates for the briefest moment before he steps onto it.

Immediately the board shifts, Lucas’s feet going one way, and his body threatening to go another and oh god, Lucas is going to fall he’s going to break something he’s going to die why is he doing why does he always do this dumb shit—

“Whoa!” Eliott reaches out and grabs onto Lucas’s flailing hands, holding them tightly in his own. He manages to steady Lucas enough that he doesn’t fall, just rolls a bit to the right. “Christ, I didn’t think you’d actually go for it.”

Lucas can feel his cheeks heating. Eliott’s hands are soft and strong against his own, long fingers curled between Lucas’s. “Yeah, well. I…can’t really say no to a challenge.”

“I know,” Eliott says, his features softening into something that could possibly be called _fond_. “Why do you think I kept giving you so much shit right back? I thought it was the only way to get you to talk to me.”

Lucas’s hands squeeze Eliott’s, on reflex, and Eliott squeezes back. “I don’t know if that was a good plan, because I thought you hated me.”

“I dunno. I kinda disagree, because look where we are now.”

Belatedly, Lucas realizes that they’re moving, Eliott taking small, slow steps and gently pulling Lucas along by the hands, the board rolling along under Lucas’s feet.

“Just try to move your body with the board,” Eliott instructs. “Keep your core tight.”

_Right._

The feeling of the ground moving underneath him is, admittedly, nerve-wracking, but Eliott is holding his hands so tightly, tugging him along so slowly. It allows Lucas to pay attention to other things, like how good the faint wind feels on his face, like how good Eliott’s palms feels against his own.

He tries to remember what they were talking about, distracted by the play of the dusk light over Eliott’s features, hallowing the shadows under his cheekbones, under his eyes, making him look otherworldly. Lucas searches his brain for the right word.

Ethereal.

“And where are we now?” He asks eventually, stumbling only a bit when Eliott turns him in a wide circle, going to the other end of the court.

“We’re on a date.” Eliott says, once again like it’s obvious. “We told each other that we like each other. We’re probably going to kiss tonight.”

Lucas’s mouth drops open. His throat feels dry. “You think we’re going to kiss?”

“Of course.” Eliott looks up from where he’s been watching Lucas’s feet on the board, meeting his eyes. “Don’t you?”

Lucas swallows once. “I doubt it.”

“Really.” Eliott has slowed Lucas down until he’s barely moving, the board moving from its own momentum. He’s still holding Lucas’s hands. “You don’t want to kiss me?”

“Not particularly.” Lucas wrinkles his nose. “You’re kinda gross. But you’re asking all these questions like you want to kiss _me_.”

“Hm, no, actually. I don’t want to kiss you anymore.”

“Oh no?” A shocked laugh bubbles out of Lucas’s throat, flies free before he can catch it. 

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Now who’s asking questions?”

They’ve stopped moving, completely. Lucas is standing on the board, and he’s closer to Eliott’s height this way, only has to tilt his chin up a bit to meet his gaze.

“If you don’t want to kiss me, that’s fine. I can find someone else who will.”

Eliott laughs now, squeezing Lucas’s hands again where they hang between them. “How the fuck did you manage to turn that around on me?”

Lucas sighs. “You’re not that smart. It’s not difficult.”

Eliott’s face screws up into something complicated, like he wants to smile but he’s trying not to, and oh god, is Lucas ever familiar with that expression.

“You’re so mean to me,” Eliott complains. He releases his hands from Lucas’s, and Lucas mourns the loss of his touch for only a second before those hands are at his waist, Eliott stepping so close to him that Lucas could count his eyelashes. “But I know your secret,” Eliott whispers into the empty air between them.

“Yeah?” Lucas’s voice comes out all breath. He swallows and tries again. “What’s that?”

“You like me,” Eliott says, wrapping his arms fully around Lucas’s waist. “You like me and you want to kiss me.”

“That’s not a secret. I told you that I like you.” Lucas argues, his own arms coming up to wrap around Eliott’s neck, his hands almost shaking when they pass over the hard muscle of Eliott’s shoulders. “You know I do.”

“I do.” Eliott agrees, and he’s leaning closer, any distance left getting small, smaller, smaller. “I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

“Eliott,” Lucas says firmly, because he has never been a patient person and even he has his limits for how much teasing he can take. “I really like you. And if you don’t kiss me right now then I’m never going on a date with you again.”

Eliott says nothing to that. Just leans the last few inches forward and presses their lips together.

Eliott’s lips are soft and warm, but the kiss is artless, a quick press of lips that Eliott immediately pulls away from. Lucas whines at the loss, wanting more, needing more than that.

“This is okay, right? You want this?”

“Yes, Eliott, for fucks’s sake, _yes_.” Lucas tugs him in by his neck. “Fucking hell,” he mutters, the last word getting caught by Eliott’s lips, their lips crushing together now, Eliott’s arms tight around Lucas’s waist.

Lucas moans into it, arching his neck up to get closer, needing Eliott to be closer.

He opens his mouth the slightest bit on the next press, and Eliott takes the invitation, coaxing Lucas’s mouth open even wider and kissing him, deep and wet.

The thing is, Lucas has actually thought about kissing Eliott before. He’s wondered what it would be like, if Eliott would have too much spit or if it would be too dry or if Eliott was the type of boy who would immediately get handsy.

In none of his fantasies did he ever think it would be this good, these slow, sensual presses of their mouths, the warm slickness of Eliott’s tongue against his own, the feeling of Eliott’s soft hair between Lucas’s fingers, the smell of Eliott surrounding him, the comforting weight of Eliott’s arms around him.

“Lucas,” Eliott gasps between one kiss and the next and he sounds _ruined_ , and Lucas thinks he might be right there with him, because kissing Eliott is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before, and Eliott is unlike anyone he’s ever known.

Lucas thinks back to the hug earlier that night, thinks about letting himself fall into Eliott but maybe they’re falling together, comets headed skywards, shooting stars set on a collision course.

So he gasps, “Eliott,” right back and lets himself feel every bit of it. 

Eliott does something with his tongue that makes Lucas’s whole body feel like a lightning rod and he moans again, tugging on Eliott’s hair.

And apparently that does something to Eliott, because he’s trying to come even closer, and he’s tilting Lucas a bit and Lucas feels his feet move but they’re not moving, and _fuck_ , he forgot he was still on the board—

Eliott tightens his arms even more and Lucas is moving, his feet leaving the skateboard as it rolls away, Eliott swinging him around in a steady circle. Lucas pulls his head back, separating their mouths to gasp again, his feet swaying in the air.

“ _Eliott,_ ” he yells, laughing, and Eliott is laughing too, setting Lucas gently onto the ground, bending to follow him down, keeping their lips level. “You really think you’re smooth, huh,” Lucas says but it’s lost again into Eliott’s mouth, a barb that has no sting, that dissolves to stardust between one press of lips and another.

Eliott’s mouth is scorching hot against Lucas’s own, so sweet Lucas might actually faint, and he’s just thinking about pushing Eliott onto the grass outside of the court and climbing on top of him, getting a better angle, when Eliott abruptly pulls back.

Lucas can’t believe the sound that comes out of his own mouth. He knows he’s blushing, and he tries to reel Eliott back in to forget about it, but Eliott’s face looks determined. 

“I want to ask you something.”

Lucas literally cannot get a single thought formed at that moment other than _lips_ and _tongue_ and _Eliott_. “Uh,” he says, lips still pursed slightly.

Eliott clears his throat. “Lucas, will you be my boyfriend?”

It takes a second, it really does, because Eliott’s lips look cherry red in the fading light and Lucas wants to be kissed again more than he wants anything else in the world, but the words land somewhere in Lucas’s brain, somewhere his brain cells have decided to return to so they can point at it and say, _oh shit!_

Boyfriend?

Lucas blinks. 

Boyfriend.

“Eliott, what the _fuck_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yee haw


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which the skater boy and the grump boy return in: blatant flirting and obliviousness

It happens when they’re outside of an ice cream parlour.

The six of them—Lucas and the girls—are polishing off two giant sundaes with childlike glee, spread out over two pastel-coloured picnic tables, watching people pass in and out of the open glass doors of the parlour.

It’s a Friday, and the sun is hot on Lucas’s face, orange flares passing over his closed eyelids, the faintest breeze cooling the small trickle of sweat trailing down from his hairline into the collar of his shirt. He feels good, pleasantly full and satisfied, warm and sleepy. He thinks about taking a nap, right there on the picnic table, then thinks about finding a nice spot of shady grass, thinks about curling up somewhere comfortable, somewhere safe, somewhere like—

“Lucas.”

It’s Manon, her gentle voice cutting through the sun-drenched haze of Lucas’s thoughts.

“What?” He asks, eyes still closed.

There’s a pause, and when Manon speaks, her voice is small, hesitant. “What’s going on between you and Eliott?”

It takes a moment for Lucas to process the question, still riding the soft current of sunshine and sugar, but when he does process it, when his brain is able to grasp the words you and Eliott, his eyes shoot open. They flick over to the other picnic table, where Imane, Alexia, Emma, and Daphné are all laughing together, too preoccupied with a story Alexia is telling to have heard Manon.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He responds flatly, then immediately wants to take the words back. It’s an answer that’s too revealing in how defensive it is. _Too obvious_.

Sure enough, he glances over at Manon, and she’s smiling kindly at him, but her eyes are sharp, knowing. 

_Fuck_.

“Okay.” Manon leans back from him, as though she’s dropping the matter completely, turning her head towards the street, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, but Lucas knows that she knows him too well. She knows that it’s killing him not to ask, that he’s practically vibrating at a low frequency with how badly he wants to ask.

He only lasts a minute before caving.

“Why? Did you hear something?”

Manon bobs her head from side to side, humming. “No, it’s just something Eliott said. It made me wonder.”

Lucas open his mouth, and he hates that it’s automatic but really, _since when do you and Eliott talk, what the fuck did Eliott say_ , only his voice dies in his throat, because he can hear the tell-tale sound of wheels rolling across pavement.

He doesn’t even need to look up and check. It’s Eliott, because of course it is. It’s as though Eliott is tapped directly into Lucas’s thoughts, as though he can hear Lucas’s internal panicking from the other side of Paris and has to come investigate. 

Lucas only has to think of Eliott to summon him. Like an evil spirit from a bad horror movie.

Or like a dream.

Or not at all like a dream because Lucas is resolutely staring at the ground, but there is the very real sound of boards scraping to clumsy halts, a very real shiver that wracks Lucas’s body when the girls shout out excited greetings and Eliott gives a small _salut_ next to Idriss’s loud laughter, and when Lucas finally forces himself to look up—just a glance, just for a second—there is a very real boy standing on the pavement, a boy who’s smiling, sweating, and probably smells disgusting.

Eliott’s eyes immediately find Lucas, and he promptly turns away to inspect a particularly fascinating bit of lime green paint peeling from the table, revealing worn, brown wood underneath. His gaze is focused downwards but he can feel Eliott’s eyes on the back of his head, can feel them trailing down his back, across his arms like a phantom caress. Lucas picks at the peel with his fingers, tugs it back to reveal more of the wood.

Idriss is talking to the girls, trading good-natured barbs with Imane and flirting shamelessly with Manon, and Lucas is only half-listening, directing all of his energy towards appearing aloof. Collected. Almost bored.

He hears Emma say something about a party, and he tunes back in.

“Where?” Idriss asks.

“It’s not too far from here, actually. I can text you the address if you want to come.”

Lucas digs his fingers under the paint peel.

“Well…” Lucas can hear Idriss rolling back and forth on his board, drawing the word out. “What do you think, Eliott? Should we grace this soirée with our glamorous selves?”

“Depends if Lucas is going.”

It’s not the words that catch Lucas so much as the way Eliott says them—honestly, bluntly, without a lick of shame. _So obvious_.

He whips his head up, and everyone is staring at him, their faces showing various stages of confusion and amusement.

Manon coughs delicately next to him. About as subtle as a brick to the face. Briefly, Lucas considers dumping melted ice cream onto her perfect hair.

But what’s more pressing is Eliott. Eliott, who’s currently staring at Lucas like he’s only two moves away from beating him at a game of chess, and the prize is Lucas himself.

And, like. Fuck _that_.

“I might be there.” Lucas says coolly, which is also, given the circumstances, a bit of a dumb answer because he’s already told all of the girls that he’ll come. He’s hosting the pre-drink.

Alexia is sending him a weird look but Eliott doesn’t seem fazed.

“If I come,” he asks softly, eyes fixed on Lucas, “will you dance with me?”

And there’s Eliott again, knocking Lucas sideways with the way he’s speaking—the unselfconscious hope there. The obvious interest. _Too obvious._

It’s a lot, suddenly, to hear that soft, honest voice and have those fucking eyes on him and Lucas loses. He breaks their staring contest to look back down at the table, back at the peeling strip of lime green paint.

“In your dreams, Demaury.” Lucas scoffs, and it’s easier to sound bored when he’s looking down, when he’s not watching the way the afternoon sunlight turns Eliott’s hair into spun gold.

“Exactly.” Eliott says, easily, so easily, almost affectionately, and Lucas exhales sharply, his finger slipping from where it was fiddling with the paint peel, catching on a splinter of wood with a sharp pinch.

“ _Fuck_.” Lucas hisses, pulling his hand back, drops of blood welling from the tip of his finger, bright red drops falling onto the pastel paint. “Fuck.” He repeats, cradling his injured finger in his other hand.

Manon is reaching for him, forehead creased in concern. “Oh shit, Lucas.”

Lucas can feel his face flushing, and it must be the pain, or the sight of the blood, or the summer heat, or all of these things at once.

He waves Manon off, rising from the bench. “It’s fine, I just need to. Bathroom.”

He brushes past the rest of them without meeting any of their eyes, saying “It’s fine,” again when Daphné asks if he’s alright. His face is still flushing, blood pooling in his cheeks, and he’s not sure he can keep blaming it on the deadly July sun. _Too obvious_.

Inside the parlour it’s hot, crowded and chaotic, but the bathroom is free, a single stall with a bright yellow door that’s hanging open. Lucas practically runs inside, slamming the door shut behind himself and clicking the lock into place.

There’s a single fluorescent light on the ceiling, humming lowly and washing a harsh white over the cheery pink tiles on the wall. Lucas takes a breath, leaning back against the door, small drops of blood trickling down his finger, dripping onto the white linoleum floor.

He’s startled by knocking on the door, three swift raps at the back of his head.

“ _Occupé!_ ” Lucas bites out, pressing down harder on his injured finger, but then there’s a soft voice coming through the door.

“Lucas, it’s me.”

“Oh.” Lucas murmurs, and he doesn’t think much about it before he’s turning towards the door, the sound of the bolt sliding out of place as loud as a gunshot in the quiet bathroom.

Eliott steps inside, closing the door behind himself and re-locking it.

Maybe Lucas’s earlier hypothesis was wrong, because he wasn’t even thinking about Eliott this time. He wasn’t thinking about anything at all, but here he is, tall and tanned, shoulders slouching downwards, hands tucked into his pockets.

He’s so fucking _cute_. Lucas wants to scream.

“Hey,” Eliott says, quirking a half-smile at Lucas. His eyes drift down to Lucas’s finger and the smile droops slightly. “Does it hurt?”

Lucas shrugs, and Eliott reaches for him.

“Here.” He guides Lucas to the sink, turning on the cold water and bringing Lucas’s hand underneath it. Lucas bites back a gasp when the water touches his stringing cut, and Eliott notices, frowning at him.

“I’m sorry.”

Lucas doesn’t look away from their joined hands under the sink, watching trails of blood swirl down the drain. “Sorry for what?”

“For this.” Eliott strokes one finger over the back of Lucas’s hand. “It was my fault.”

Lucas coughs to hide a shiver. “You give yourself too much credit.”

Eliott huffs a laugh. “Really? Because it looks like you were really distracted by me.”

“I wasn’t.” 

Eliott gently squeezes Lucas’s injured finger, the blood almost completely washed away now. “No?” He asks, and he sounds more amused than concerned.

“No.” Lucas says shortly. He can’t say anything else because the annoying thing is, Eliott is right. Lucas is so distracted by him: by the feeling of his hands against Lucas’s own; by the way Eliott smells, like mint and sunshine and boy, which defies all logic based on how sweaty Lucas can see he is; and by the way Lucas can practically feel the warmth radiating from Eliott’s sun-kissed skin. He’s thinking about a few nights ago, when Eliott invited him over to watch a film and Lucas fell asleep on his chest, face pressed into his skin, surrounded by Eliott’s warmth, more comfortable that he can ever remember being in his entire life.

Yeah, distracting.

But it’s chill. Lucas may be bleeding, but it’s chill. _Not obvious_.

“I think you’re okay.” Eliott announces, turning the tap off. He pulls out a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser and delicately wraps it around Lucas’s finger. “It looks like it’s stopped bleeding. But you can always ask if they have any band-aids if you need one.”

“I don’t need a _band-aid_ ,” Lucas says sourly. “It was hardly bleeding.”

Eliott just hums, brining Lucas’s hand to his lips and presses a dainty kiss to his wrapped finger.

“I missed you.” Eliott whispers against the paper towel.

Lucas feels something, he doesn’t know what, but _something_ rush through his body at the words, at the soft way Eliott says them. He can’t put a name to the feeling, but it’s restless. It rolls through him like a wave, roiling like a storm.

“You saw me two days ago.” His voice is embarrassingly faint.

Eliott rolls his eyes. “Yeah, exactly. Two.” He presses a kiss on the back of Lucas’s hand. “Whole.” A kiss to the inside of his wrist. “Days.” A kiss near the crease of his elbow. “I’m practically dying over here.”

“Hm. Sounds like a you problem.”

Eliott leans back, Lucas’s hand still caught in his. “Oh yeah?” He laughs. “You’re telling me you didn’t miss me?”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“So, should I just pretend that I never received that text message from you at two in the morning?”

Lucas’s face flushes. Again. _So obvious._

He goes for plausible deniability, because that worked so well for him earlier. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh.” Eliott is grinning at him, eyes scrunching at the corners, and it’s so endearing that it physically hurts not to smile back. Lucas feels his cheek twitch.

There’s a beat where they just stare at each other.

Then Eliott’s tugging him closer by his hand, Eliott is saying, “Okay, enough, come here, please,” and Lucas is pressed up against him, chest to chest, and Eliott really is so warm, Lucas can feel it bleeding into his t-shirt, and Eliott is bending down, eyes on Lucas’s lips but Lucas pulls back, makes him work for it just because he can. 

Only, Eliott doesn’t seem to mind. He just smiles, and chases him, leaning in to kiss Lucas gently, their mouths brushing together soft and feather-light. Lucas can feel himself melt into it, tipping his head back further like he’s a flower arcing up towards Eliott’s sunlight.

“You’re sure you didn’t miss me?” Eliott teases, so close Lucas can taste the mint on his breath. “This feels a lot like you missed me.”

“Oh my god, shut _up_.” Lucas groans. “You’re so annoying.” He bites down on Eliott’s bottom lip, partially just to be rude and partially to get a reaction out of Eliott, to see the way his eyes widen, then narrow.

“Fuck.” Eliott murmurs, and he’s diving in for another kiss, releasing Lucas’s hand to wrap both arms around his waist, dipping him backwards with how hard he’s pressing forwards. Lucas’s own hands rise to Eliott’s shoulders, grip the muscle and bone there to steady himself, his back bending at an angle that’s uncomfortable, bordering painful, but then Eliott is deepening the kiss, their joined mouths parting with a slick sound and Lucas is gone.

There’s dirty linoleum squeaking under his sneakers, the hum of the fluorescent light in his ears, and his injured finger is still throbbing, but all of that becomes faint, fuzzy details in Lucas’s consciousness that blur until he forgets where he is. He could be on a beach. He could be in a field. He could be on the surface of the sun. He could be anywhere with Eliott kissing him, holding onto him, breathing him in.

Lucas is gone, gone.

There’s a monologue somewhere in his mind, in some greying corner of _too obvious, too obvious, too obvious_ , telling Lucas that this is too much. He’s feeling too much. He thinks about Eliott too much. He dreams about Eliott too much.

He should have known the first day he saw Eliott, rolling into the school grounds on his board, snapback on backwards, smile blindingly beautiful, every head turning to follow his progress. Lucas should have known he was as doomed as the rest of them.

_The entire world is in love with you._

And that it’s for Lucas, that’s what makes him break away from Eliott’s lips, his hands loosening their tight grip on Eliott’s shoulders. Eliott isn’t deterred though, just latches his mouth onto Lucas’s neck and makes his way downwards, pulling aside the collar of Lucas’s t-shirt to kiss the spot where Lucas’s shoulder meets his neck.

“Eliott.” Lucas says, pressing his hands against Eliott’s chest, pushing him back.

Eliott detaches his mouth from Lucas’s skin, his hands sliding up Lucas’s sides until they reach his face, cupping it in his palms. “Please,” Eliott breathes. “Please come back to mine. Idriss won’t care.”

“I can’t.” Lucas says, voice muffled by Eliott dipping in for another kiss. “I’m with the girls, and they—”

“We could just tell them.”

The words leave Eliott’s mouth and they both stop, Lucas pulling his head back, Eliott’s hands falling from Lucas’s face.

“Tell them what?” Lucas asks slowly.

Eliott’s cheeks flush, like he’s embarrassed, but he doesn’t drop Lucas’s gaze. It’s frustratingly attractive, how he always holds eye contact, even when he’s saying something difficult. Because everything about Eliott is maddeningly perfect.

“I think they’d be happy for you, if you told them you have a boyfriend.”

“But I don’t have a boyfriend.”

The memory of it is too fresh in Lucas’s mind, the way Eliott looked when he asked him, _Lucas, will you be my boyfriend?_ Lucas had only felt disbelief, sheer disbelief at the question, at the very notion that Eliott is apparently the type of guy to take a person on one date, and then ask them go steady. Or whatever.

When his disbelief had faded, blind panic took place. And so he’d said the first glib response that came to mind: _In your dreams, Eliott Demaury._

Eliott sighs, tilting his head back to the ceiling, to the flickering fluorescent light. “Alright, that you’re seeing someone.”

“Seeing someone.” Lucas repeats dubiously. “Yeah, no, they’ll want deets. And I’m not ready to give deets.”

Now it’s Eliott’s turn to sound dubious. “Deets?”

“Yes. Deets. Everyone thought we hated each other, Eliott. For a long time. So they’ll want to know everything and I just…I don’t want to tell them. I mean, we talked about this.” Lucas finishes weakly, because they did talk about it. Over text, because sometimes Lucas is a coward and he is _not_ proud of it. But the topic was addressed, more or less.

Eliott’s staring at him again, and Lucas fights the urge to shift awkwardly under his gaze. “Okay.” He finally says, letting out a breath. He takes a step forward, bringing their bodies close together again. “But can I ask you for something?”

Normally, Lucas is loathe to agree to any favours, ever, but he will go to his grave without admitting that Eliott is the one exception. The only one.

“I’m not giving you a handie in here, if that’s what you’re going for.”

Eliott makes a scandalized noise, and bursts into laughter. “Lucas! Jesus Christ, no!” He runs a hand over his face, as though he can’t believe Lucas is someone he has to endure in this life. “Although,” his hand drops away and his eyebrows raise. “Now that you’ve put the idea my head…”

He takes another step closer, reaching out for Lucas’s waist and Lucas laughs, slapping his hand away. “Alright, then what?” He asks, pushing Eliott back with a finger at the centre of his chest. Eliott tries to grasp onto Lucas’s hand but Lucas dodges, dancing away until his back hits the yellow-tiled wall of the bathroom.

Lucas had, briefly, forgotten where he was, but now all of the details of the bathroom come back into sharp focus. And it finally occurs to him that he and Eliott have been away for a while. That they disappeared one after another and that they’ll return at the same time. He already knows how that will look to the group. To Manon. _So obvious._

“Dance with me.” Eliott says in a rush. “Tonight. At the party.”

Lucas blinks at him. “You really want to do that?”

Eliott nods. His shoulders are hunched again, sloping down towards the floor as though his entire body is frowning. He looks…anxious. It sends a lightning bolt of pain into Lucas’s heart.

So Lucas says, “Okay,” because he doesn’t actually want to play with Eliott’s feelings, whatever they may be right now. He’s just trying to protect himself. He’s preparing for the moment Eliott gets bored of him and picks up something else that looks shiny. Because that’s what he’s always heard Eliott does.

_It’s easy for him. The entire world is in love with him._

“Fine.” Lucas says, and he rolls his eyes like it’s a big chore but he smiles. “One dance.”

Eliott grins, bouncing forward on his toes. “Great.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Lucas says, pressing himself away from the wall. “I need to return to the girls before they come looking for me themselves.” He steps around Eliott, bopping their hips together and reaching up to flick Eliott’s nose. “See you tonight, I guess.” He unlocks the door, opens it, and glances over his shoulder to get one last look at Eliott there, bathed in fluorescence but still achingly beautiful, looking like summer personified, like a pool Lucas is dying to dive into.

He drags his gaze down Eliott’s body and says, “By the way, your fly is low.”

The door shuts behind him, but he can still hear Eliott’s laugh.

He speed-walks back out to where the girls are, to see they’re all at the same table now, with Idriss standing next to it, two skateboards at his feet. Lucas can recognize Celeste, the new pale pink wheels Eliott put on her last week already tinged grey by gravel.

“Lucas.” Alexia says pleasantly. “Where have you been?”

Lucas holds up his paper-towel bandaged finger. “Tending to a fatal wound.”

“Right.” Emma has her chin resting on her folded hands, and she smiles toothily at him. “You were gone for a while.” Her eyes widen. “Must have been a _lot_ of blood.”

Lucas feels his traitorous cheeks flush. _Don’t be obvious._

“There was queue for the bathroom.” He lies easily, throwing himself down on the bench next to Imane and steadfastly avoiding any and all eye possible instances of eye contact.

“Lucas.” He glances up at Idriss, who’s smiling at him from behind a pair of Ray-Bans. “You’re hosting the pre-drink tonight, right?” He asks, leaning forward one one bent knee, his foot propped up on the table.

“Yeah.” Lucas nods, fiddling with the paper towel around his finger, searching for the phantom sensation of lips pressed against it. “Do you need my address?”

Idriss shakes his head. “I’ve got it. But what time should we come?”

We.

Him and Sofiane, probably. And Eliott. Probably. Not just at the party, but at the pre-drink. In Lucas’s flat. Where Lucas’s bedroom is.

“Uh,” Lucas draws out, blanking out for so long that Manon answers for him.

“Around nine is good.”

Idriss grins. “Alright. I’ll see you guys at nine, then.” He slaps one hand against the table and straightens, bending down to pick up the two boards. “I’ll take these and go find Eliott.” Idriss’s eyes flick over to Lucas, who immediately glances away at the trash bins. “Wherever he may have gone.” Idriss finishes on laugh, taking two long strides into the doors of the parlour.

Lucas can feel Imane’s eyes burning into the side of his head but he keeps staring at the trash bins, watching two seagulls fight over a piece of waffle cone.

Daphné starts talking about potential outfit choices for the night, and Lucas is glad for it, for the distraction it brings, for how she grabs everyone’s attention at the table, and he can take a deep breath.

Suddenly, the idea of going to a party that night is beyond appealing. Lucas needs enough vodka in his system to tranquilize a horse.

Eliott doesn’t arrive at Lucas’s place until nine-thirty.

Lucas has had a drink or two by that point, and some of the anxiety he was feeling earlier—when he’d stood in front of his dresser with the drawers open in the middle of a crisis about t-shirts—has dissipated. He’s talking with Arthur and Yann in the kitchen, and he has a drink in hand and he’s feeling good. It’s chill, he’s chill, and he’s definitely not going to go into his room and change his black t-shirt for a blue one.

Then he hears Alexia excitedly call out, “Eliott!”

Lucas freezes, mid-sentence, eyes drifting to the kitchen entryway, and Yann smirks at him.

“Shut up.” Lucas says, pushing Yann’s face away with an open palm, and Arthur glances between them, brow furrowed.

“Shut up about what?”

“Nothing.” Lucas mutters, taking a sip from his drink to cover. It’s something Emma made him, something with vodka and soda and juice—it’s sickeningly sweet, and will probably give him the most spectacular hangover in the morning, but it also burns pleasantly in Lucas’s stomach. 

Arthur shrugs and keeps talking, picking up the thread of a story he hadn’t finished earlier, but Lucas is too distracted to hear, because there’s Eliott, poking his fluffy head into the kitchen and smiling widely when he sees Lucas. It’s probably the vodka/soda/juice combo, but Lucas returns the smile without thinking. _Was that obvious?_

Eliott comes over to them, bumping fists with Yann and Arthur, and smiling at Lucas. Still smiling. “How’s your night, boys?”

“Just getting started!” Arthur cheers, knocking his glass of wine back. A bit of the liquid dribbles onto his chin, and Yann wipes it off, laughing.

“Do you have any beer?” Eliott asks, eyes on Lucas.

Lucas raises an eyebrow. “Can’t afford your own?”

“Idriss has some, but…” Eliott’s smile sharpens. “I bet yours tastes better.”

Arthur blinks. Yann throws his head back and cackles. Lucas bites down on his lip until he can almost taste blood, cheek twitching.

“I don’t have any, actually.” Lucas says lightly, even though he definitely has a full case in the fridge. “You can have one of Yann’s.”

Yann makes an offended noise and Lucas smiles pleasantly at him, turning away from them to open the fridge. He actually does get Eliott one of his own, because no one has to know and honestly, Yann has terrible taste. He seems to drink shitty beer just for the glory of drinking shitty beer.

“Here.” Lucas says, turning back around, then stops in surprise when he sees the kitchen is empty expect for him and Eliott. He frowns. “Where did everyone go?”

Eliott shrugs. “Don’t know.”

Lucas narrows his eyes, suspicious. “Whatever.” He slams the beer bottle down on the table. “That’s for you, so. Enjoy.”

Eliott beams at him. “Thank you, baby.”

“Whatever,” Lucas repeats, his brain unable to come up with a better comeback, and suddenly he’s itching to leave the kitchen, which feels too small with only him and Eliott inside of it, all of the empty air taken up by Eliott’s bright smile and teasing eyes.

“I meant to tell you,” Eliott says lowly as Lucas passes him, stopping him with a gentle hand on his arm. “You look really beautiful tonight.”

Lucas shrugs. “I know.”

“Do you think I look nice?” Eliott drops his hold on Lucas to spread his arms out, his button-up shirt gaping open across his chest. Lucas squints. There are snakes patterned all over it. “I showered and everything.”

“Is that what that smell is?”

Eliott bursts into laughter. “Fuck off.” He says, but the words have no bite.

Lucas takes another sip of his drink to hide his smile. “Alright well.” He takes a step backwards towards the hallway. “Bye.”

“Wait.” Eliott tugs Lucas back to him by his t-shirt, dipping down to press a quick kiss to his cheek. It happens so quickly, Eliott is holding Lucas close, his breath warm on the side of his face, and then he’s gone, snagging his beer from the table and disappearing into the hallway.

“ _Byeeeeeee_ ,” Eliott calls over his shoulder, drawing the word out like Alexia always does, voice lilting up at the end, leaving Lucas behind in the kitchen.

Manon finds him like that, with his plastic cup in hand, mouth hanging open, cheeks coloured bright pink, and she smiles at him so, so knowingly. So obvious.

They leave the coloc at almost eleven, stumbling out of the flat like a circus act, a mess of tangled limbs and tripping shoes and drunken rambunctiousness. Lucas shushes them all as they spill out into the hallway, fearful of the neighbours.

“Please.” Mika says as he swans by, a floral kimono trailing after him. “It’s just Gertrude next door, and if anything, she’d want to come with us to the party.”

As if on cue, the door down the hall opens and a tiny, white-haired woman pops her head out. She grins when she sees them.

“That’s it, kids! Live like gods tonight! Put the moon and stars to shame!”

There’s a beat of silence, then Mika, Emma, Alexia, and Idriss rush towards her, cheering, and Lucas plants his face in his palm.

“What even is my life?” He mutters to himself.

Everyone around him is moving, the girls piling into the elevator with Sofiane and Mika and Idriss still talking to Gertrude, Idriss offering her a shot of whiskey, and in the chaos, Lucas feels a hand slide down his side, resting at his lower back.

“You heard her, baby,” a low voice whispers in his ear. “Let’s put the moon and stars to shame.”

Lucas only catches a glimpse of Eliott’s curved eyes, the corner of a lopsided grin, and then he’s disappearing into the elevator, the spot he was touching on Lucas’s lower back burning like there's now a brand of Eliott’s hand there.

“Lucas, come on!” Daphné calls out, everyone motioning him in, and he sighs, then throws himself into the throng.

_What even is my life?_

They get to the party without any major mishaps or injuries, the only close call when Idriss almost collided into a lamp post on his skateboard, then Eliott, laughing at Idriss, had crashed into the curb with his own board, collapsing onto the grass on the other side of it, long arms flailing out.

Lucas had laughed so hard he nearly cried.

The party is in a townhouse, at the end of a street of tall and narrow homes on the outskirts of the neighbourhood. Lucas knows which house it is right away, from the door that’s propped open spilling light and music onto the dark street. There’s a small group of people smoking outside, gathered outside a low iron gate. Lucas doesn’t know any of them, but they all cheer when they see them approaching, one girl in the group offering a bottle of champagne out to Alexia.

“Enter at your own risk.” The girl says with a laugh. “It’s wild in there.”

Emma lets out a laugh that Lucas can only describe as villainous. “Guys. Let’s fucking _goooooo_.”

The girl wasn’t kidding. There are people everywhere inside: sitting on the staircase, propped up on the counters in the kitchen, dancing in the living room, talking in the hallways, and crowding out onto a back deck, the back door propped open by what looks like a garden gnome.

The girls immediately go for the living room, Emma waving excitedly at someone she recognizes, Mika following behind them, holding up, of all things, a disco ball. Idriss, Sofiane, Eliott, and Yann make their way towards the back deck, and Lucas gets pulled into the kitchen by Arthur and Basile. Arthur cracks open another bottle of wine and Basile pulls a beer out of the fridge, offering it to Lucas.

Lucas takes it but doesn’t drink from it right away. He’s already a bit drunk and it’s overwhelming inside the house. Bodies crush around Lucas like a pulse, the music so loud it seems to pound directly into his ribcage.

He gets pulled by Basile and Arthur again, back to the living room to find the girls.

From there, Lucas gets caught in a swirl of bodies, passed from Manon, to Alexia, to Arthur, the room spinning around him as he dances. He loses his beer somewhere but then Emma hands him a shot and he knocks it back without question. It burns all the way down his throat but he likes it. He likes how it makes the house more welcoming than overwhelming, how he seems to flow through the crowd now rather than be crushed by it.

“Isn’t this amazing?” Basile crows in his ear. He has one arm around Lucas and one around Arthur. “This is what it’s all about, boys!”

Arthur laughs and trips, making all three of them stumble apart. Lucas flails his arms out, and one of them gets caught by Daphné.

“Come on, Lucas!” She yells. “Let’s dance!”

So, they dance.

The song changes to something new, something upbeat and dance-y and the crowd cheers, Daphné laughing as Lucas spins her in a circle, her hair fanning out behind her. Lucas lets himself be carried away by the music, by the beat that practically shakes the walls, closing his eyes and tilting his head back, swaying his body from side to side.

_losing myself,  
i’m losing myself tonight_

Arthur yells something in his ear but Lucas doesn’t catch it, just keeps his eyes closed, keeps moving his body to the beat, uncaring of how ridiculous he might look. He gets lost in it.

So when a pair of hands come to his hips, he jolts in surprise, eyes snapping open. He can see Daphné and Basile dancing together, and can see Imane and Manon talking at the opening of the hallway, but other than that the gang has disappeared.

The hands on his hips tighten, and Lucas swears he knows those hands. He knows the broad chest pressing against his back. Knows the soft hair tickling the nape of his neck.

He says, “Eliott,” before he even turns around and Eliott laughs lowly in his ear.

“You said you’d dance with me, remember?”

“Yeah.” Lucas breathes, and it must be the party, the overwhelming crowd making anonymity a tantalizing possibility. Or it must be the alcohol Lucas can still feel swimming in his veins, tipsy more than drunk now, but still pleasantly hazy in a way that makes grinding back on Eliott seem like a very good idea. The best idea. Or, more than anything, it might be Eliott himself, who’s hands feel like heaven on Lucas’s body, who’s voice is sweet in Lucas’s ear, telling him how good he looks, telling him how badly Eliott wanted to touch him the second he saw him start to dance, and who smells so fucking good. Seriously, it’s going to kill Lucas one day, how good Eliott smells all the time. How badly Lucas wants to press his face into Eliott’s neck, his chest, feel the heat of his skin and inhale.

“Fuck.” Eliott hisses and Lucas thinks for a moment that Eliott really is tapped into his thoughts, because _yeah, fuck_.

Eliott has his face near Lucas’s shoulder, practically panting into his ear. “You’re so fucking hot.” Eliott murmurs, and Lucas shakes his head. He’s not, he isn’t—

“No.” He says nonsensically. “You.”

But Eliott runs with it. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Lucas turns in Eliott’s arms, feels his hands slide around to his back, to that same place he’d touched earlier, and he feels just as warm from it. Just as claimed. He wonders if, in some way, Eliott has ruined him a little bit. If Lucas will never be able to feel anyone else’s hands on himself without thinking of Eliott, of the gentle but firm way he touches Lucas, as though he’s saying, _I’m here, I’m here, if you want me_ , just with his hands.

But Lucas doesn’t want to think about anyone else touching him. He doesn’t want to think about Eliott touching anyone else.

He tilts his head back to meet Eliott’s eyes. “You.” He says again, and the word gets lost in the yelling and laughing around them, in the music still blaring.

_we givin’ up (givin’ up, we givin’ up)_

“You’re more than hot.” Lucas says, which absolutely is not what he planned to say, but it comes out, and Eliott must just catch it because his brow furrows.

“More than hot?”

“You’re amazing. You might be the best person I know.” And Lucas’s mouth is still moving faster than his brain. “I always act like you annoy me but it’s because I like you so much. Too much.”

Eliott smiles wide, eyes crinkling, and Lucas feels the bottom of his heart drop.

“And I’m just waiting for you to end it.”

Eliott’s smile falls, lightning-fast, and Lucas wants to disappear into the floor. He wants to pull the words from the air and force them back down his throat, drown them with vodka.

“What?” Eliott asks, and he’s frowning now, and Lucas is waving his hands frantically.

“No. No! That’s not—forget I said that!”

“Lucas. What does that mean?”

“Are we not dancing?” Lucas voice rises an entire octave, still barely audible over the music. “Let’s go back to dancing. Let’s do that!”

“Baby.” Lucas doesn’t hear the word, just watches Eliott’s mouth form it, sees the way Eliott’s entire body is caving towards him, shoulders sloping down, eyes heavy with worry.

Lucas stops. Opens his mouth and closes it.

“Come on.” Eliott grips onto Lucas’s hand and tugs him away from the centre of the living room, out of the mass of bodies still jumping, swaying, spinning, gyrating, heads tilted back, arms in the air.

_losing myself,  
i’m losing myself tonight_

Eliott guides him away from the hallway, where Imane and Manon are still standing, staring at them; Manon with concern, Imane with thinly veiled curiosity. Eliott keeps pulling him away, though the back door onto the porch, a rickety wooden platform that steps down to a small backyard with an iron fence, a park just beyond that.

“Eliott.” Lucas tries, but he doesn’t get any further than that. He has no idea what even would have said. _Eliott, I’m sorry. Eliott, I didn’t mean to say that. Eliott, I’m just trying not to get my heart broken._

They finally stop when they reach a corner of the small yard, Eliott turning Lucas so he’s pressed back against the fence, Eliott blocking him from the prying eyes on the porch, the small group of people passing a joint around, the two girls making out on a lawn chair.

Lucas is grateful for it, because if he’s going to have an emotional breakdown, he sure doesn’t want it to happen with an audience, but the way Eliott is looming over him also makes him nervous. He can’t look away from Eliott like this, when he’s surrounded by him. He can’t drop his glance anywhere without his eyes catching on Eliott’s lips, on a sliver of his bare chest, on the curve of his nose, the veins on his arms, the face of one of the snakes on his shirt, curling around Eliott’s shoulder.

Lucas can still faintly hear the music, and the song changes to something else, something lower, with more bass, that gets another cheer from inside.

“What did you mean?” Eliott asks, eyes intent on Lucas.

Lucas shrugs, lowering his eyes from the snake on Eliott’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean anything.”

“Lucas, come on.”

Eliott sounds frustrated, and for some reason, rather than cow Lucas into submission, that makes him angry.

“Well, what am I supposed to think?” He asks loudly, getting the attention of the girls on the lawn chair. “You come out of nowhere and tell me that you _like_ me? When I was never nice to you, not once. You could have gotten with like, literally anybody else.”

Eliott blinks at him. “I am…so confused by what you’re saying right now. Did I not tell you that I’ve liked you this entire time?”

“Okay, but.” Lucas makes an angry noise in the back of his throat. He doesn’t want to say this. “I’ve heard things.”

Eliott’s face darkens. “What things.”

“That you get bored! That you move on to the next exciting person when the one you’re with isn’t a mystery to you anymore. So, yeah, I was really rude to you because I didn’t want to be another one of those people. And now I…” Lucas sighs. “Now I fucking am.”

“Alright, firstly.” Eliott looks absolutely pissed. “I have no idea where those rumours started but they aren’t true. I mean, yeah, there was a time last year when I dated a few people really quickly, and I’m not proud about that, but Lucas.” Eliott laughs once. “I wanted to be dating you, that entire time! I was so gone for you from the very first time you spoke to me. I’ve never wanted anyone other than you. I know it’s not fair to those people, it really isn’t, but I was just distracting myself because I thought I’d never have a chance with you.”

Lucas, too shocked to have a proper thought, says the first thing that comes into his head. “You never said secondly.”

“What?”

“You said ‘firstly’, but you never had a second point. It’s really annoying when people—”

“Oh my _god_.” Eliott groans, tilting his head back to the night sky. “You’re the most difficult person on the planet, I swear.”

Lucas, grossly offended by that, opens his mouth to respond, but Eliott cuts him off.

“ _Secondly_ , I thought I’d never have a chance with you until Yann says something to me, something about how you always bring me up in conversation for no reason at all. So, I thought, maybe I actually have—”

Fucking Yann. “Okay, wait, for the record, I did not—”

“Will you please let me finish?” Eliott is loud enough that Lucas can see a few curious heads popping over Eliott’s shoulder. “Lucas.” Eliott says, and he sounds annoyed and fond and tired and Lucas likes him so much he might explode. He might combust right there, a star going supernova just from the sound of Eliott’s voice. “I asked you out, and I still can’t believe you said yes, when I’ve had a crush on you for so long. And there was a part of me that thought, maybe we’d go out and discover we’re not good for each other that way. But then we did, and…well, I think we really are. Good for each other. So, yeah, I asked you to be my boyfriend on our first date because spending more time with you has just made me like you more. If that’s even possible.” Eliott huffs out a breath. “You’re really stubborn sometimes, you know that? And I don’t understand why you decided to believe some stupid rumours instead of talking to me about this.”

Lucas stares down at the ground, at the gap of flat, brown grass between his and Eliott’s sneakers. “It was easy for me to believe them.”

“Why?”

He keeps looking down, trying to give Eliott back some of the honesty that he’s given Lucas. “Easy to believe anything rather than you’d really like me. That you want a relationship with me.”

Eliott sighs, and it sounds sad. “Lucas.”

“Whatever.” Lucas rubs a hand over his face. “I’ve got issues, who doesn’t these days.”

There are gentle fingers on Lucas’s neck, a thumb tilting his chin up, up, until his eyes meet Eliott’s, bright and grey and intense.

Lucas gulps.

“I don’t understand how you can see yourself that way.” Eliott says. “I think you’re everything.”

“Yeah, well.” Lucas huffs. “You said it yourself, I’m difficult. My life can be difficult.”

Eliott shakes his head. “So can mine. I mean, I know there are things that you haven’t told me, that aren’t my business, but I guess I’m saying that…” Eliott pauses, licks his lips, and Lucas tracks the motion without meaning to. “I want these things to be my business. If you want to tell me things, then I want to listen. I want to be here for you.”

“That’s…” Lucas inhales sharply. “That’s what you want?”

“What I want,” Eliott starts slowly, “is to be your boyfriend. I want you to trust me. I want to take you on dates. I want to hold your hand when we walk places together. I want to kiss you in front of our friends and I don’t give a shit if they make fun of us for it. Okay? That’s what I want.”

Lucas’s exhale is a shudder, his entire body shivering in the late-night air, in the burning touch of Eliott’s fingers on his skin. “I…want that too.”

Eliott smiles, and really, Lucas thinks he never had any chance of self-preservation at all.

_The entire world is in love with you._

_I’m in love with you._

“Yeah?” Eliott asks, his hands sliding up to cup Lucas’s cheeks. “You want me to be your boyfriend?”

Lucas nods, his forehead brushing against Eliott’s. He can practically hear his heart beating, a runaway train pressing against his ribs. “I want to be with you. Eliott.” He pulls back enough that he can see Eliott’s entire face. Fuck it, Eliott’s not the only one who can make big, romantic speeches. “You should know, that’s all I’ve ever wanted too.”

Eliott blinks at him.

“And I lo—” Okay, maybe not that romantic. “I really, really like you. Stupid amounts.”

“Stupid amounts.” Eliott echoes, and then he’s leaning forward and they’re kissing, under the night sky, standing on burnt grass, before the eyes of an enthralled and stoned audience.

Lucas thinks he might hear a faint applause.

He pulls away from Eliott on a giggle, high and bubbly and uncontrollable.

“I can’t believe this.” He says, laying his hands flat on Eliott’s chest, on the place where his button-up gapes open. “I never thought that…”

Eliott’s hand slide down to Lucas’s back, pulling him in gently. “Me too.” He presses a kiss to the top of Lucas’s head. “I was worried for a second there. I’m all out of romantic speeches.”

“Well.” Lucas tilts his head up, held tightly in the circle of Eliott’s arms. “How about I do one, then?”

Eliott brushes their noses together. “Okay.”

“Let’s ditch this party, and go back to my place.”

Eliott bursts into laughter. “I don’t know what else I was expecting.”

They re-enter the house, making a beeline for the kitchen, where Lucas can see the gang posted up in a corner, in varying states of sobriety.

“Well, well, well.” Emma says when she sees them, wagging a finger at Lucas. “Where have you boys been?”

“Nowhere.” Lucas says, at the same time that Eliott says, “Everywhere.”

Imane and Idriss each raise a suspicious eyebrow.

It’s Basile that goes for the blunt question. “Are you guys dating now?”

Eliott glances over at Lucas. “Uh. Yeah, we are.” He says, but it’s said almost as a question, as though he’s not sure that Lucas still wants this.

Lucas’s cheek twitches.

A chorus of gasps goes up in the kitchen.

“Oh my god!” Mika yells. “Tell me this is true! Tell me!”

“Fucking _finally_!” Alexia crows.

Eliott and Lucas, however, only have eyes for each other, so Eliott sees it clearly when Lucas mouths, _in your dreams, Eliott Demaury_.

And Lucas sees it clearly when Eliott mouths back, _exactly_.

Eliott, of course, gets sucked into a celebratory bro-hug with Sofiane and Idriss. Arthur kisses Lucas on the forehead, Basile high-fives him, and Yann just grins at him from across the kitchen.

Lucas thinks he catches some money being exchanged subtly under the kitchen table, and he can’t even say he’s that surprised.

He hears Eliott trying to extricate himself from Idriss and Sofiane, telling them he and Lucas are going to go home, which just inspires another round of shocked gasps. Idriss immediately starts egging Eliott about safe-sex practices. Eliott, in turn, tells him pleasantly to fuck off.

Lucas watches him for a moment, watches how Eliott’s eyes light up as he listens, watches how he smiles so wide his eyes scrunch up into half-moons, watches how he ducks his chin towards his chest shyly when Emma says something to him, watches how he fiddles with his phone in his hands, long fingers curling around the device.

Suddenly, all Lucas can think about is being close to him, being alone with him, touching him. Eliott.

And maybe, possibly, Eliott really is tuned into Lucas’s thoughts, because his head snaps up, their eyes meet, and it looks like Eliott is thinking the exact same thing.

Their staring contest is broken only by Manon appearing at Lucas’s elbow, a gentle hand pressing into his back.

“You’re being obvious,” she whispers into Lucas’s ear, and Lucas can’t control the smile that spreads across his face.

_Yeah. I am._

It’s late by the time he and Eliott are actually able to leave, but the party is still in full force, the bursting house exhaling them both onto the pavement outside.

Eliott reaches for his hand as soon as they pass through the gate, their fingers twining together while their cheeks flush, smiles pointing shyly downwards.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Eliott says, grinning. He tugs Lucas’s hand up his mouth and kisses the back of it once. Then again. Again.

Lucas tucks himself into Eliott’s side, shivering, pressing their linked hands to his chest. “Me too.” He murmurs, and he stands on his toes to kiss Eliott’s cheek.

The air is cool and thick outside, the promise of rain heavy in the encroaching clouds. Possibly a thunderstorm. Lucas considers it, watching the rain fall while tangled up with Eliott in his sheets. He imagines being kissed while a storm rages beyond his window and really, that doesn’t sound too bad.

“You want to stay the night, right?” He checks, and Eliott nods, pressing his own kiss to Lucas’s cheek.

“Nowhere I’d rather be.” He says.

They stumble a bit on the pavement, wrapped too tightly together, Eliott unbalanced with Celeste tucked under his free arm, but they don’t even try to separate, aware that if one of them falls, the other one will too.

"What was the song?" Lucas asks after a beat, playing with Eliott's fingers idly.

"What song?"

Lucas nudges his shoulder. "The song you said reminded me of you."

Eliott bites his lip, shakes his head. "Not telling you."

Lucas frowns. "Really?"

"I'm not telling you yet." Eliott amends, drawing Lucas closer to his side. Lucas pretends to struggle against him, but eventually presses his head into Eliott's chest, already wondering how he can get that song title out of him.

“So, hey.” Eliott whispers into Lucas’s hair. “We’re boyfriends.”

Lucas laughs, pulling his head away. “Yeah. And?”

“And nothing. I just wanted to say it.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Maybe so, but I’m still your boyfriend.”

Lucas has no comeback. He just presses a grin into Eliott’s bicep.

“Huh.” Eliott says thoughtfully. “I’ve found a way to make you be nice to me.”

“Oh fuck off.” Lucas swats at Eliott’s ribs, then leaps away before Eliott can retaliate.

“Nope, never mind.” Eliott sighs. “You’re still mean to me.”

“I’m never mean to you.” Lucas protests, spinning in a circle on the pavement.

“Bullshit!” Eliott laughs. “You so are!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lucas says primly, turning away from Eliott again, but then he hears Celeste clatter to the ground, hears three long strides across the pavement, and then there are hands on his waist, lifting him and throwing him over a bony shoulder.

“What the _fuck_!” Lucas screeches but he’s laughing uncontrollably, Eliott swinging him around in a circle. “Eliott, put me down!”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“Eliott!”

“Not until you promise to be nice to me.”

“I promise not to kill you in your sleep tonight. How’s that?”

Eliott laughs, then gently tips forward until Lucas’s feet touch the road again. “Tell you what,” he says, “I’ll let it go if you do something for me.”

Lucas’s eyes narrow. “What?”

Eliott tilts his head to the side, to where Celeste is resting against the curb.

Lucas takes a step back. “Oh, no. No way.”

“Babe, come on. I’ll go with you.”

Lucas blanches. “Would that not make it more dangerous?”

Eliott shrugs. “Probably not. Like, no more than usual.”

“Oh my _god_.”

He caves, because of course he does, and a few minutes later, Lucas is on the front of the board, rolling down another street, and Eliott is behind him, pushing the board with one foot, hands tight on Lucas’s waist.

“This is so stupid!” Lucas shrieks as they round a corner, bodies swaying back and forth, but he can’t stop the giggle that follows, bubbling out of his chest like champagne.

Eliott is laughing too, loud cackles that echo down the quiet street. “You’re having fun, admit it!”

Lucas won’t admit it, but he is having fun. It’s fun to feel the pavement roll away underneath his feet, fun to have the wind sailing past his ears, ruffling his hair, fun to have Eliott there with him, holding onto him, guiding him, keeping him safe.

“Hey.” Eliott calls from behind him. “You know what you said to me, when I first asked you to be my boyfriend?”

Lucas grins. “Yes?”

“Well, you were right. It was in my dreams. You were. This was.”

“This was? Us riding together on a skateboard in the Parisian suburbs?”

Eliott snorts. “No. Well maybe. But more than that, just you and me. Being together. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Lucas says softly, and he lets the wind carry away the words, wanting Eliott to hear them and wanting everyone on the street to hear them, to know it’s possible. Lucas and Eliott. They’re possible. “It was my dream too.”

They take a spill a few minutes later, both of them hitting the pavement. It’s not too bad, they weren’t going too fast, but Lucas scrapes his elbow and Eliott scrapes his hand and his knee, and they both laugh about it the rest of the way home, nursing their injuries and dragging the board behind them, all while their hands are clasped tightly together, fingers entwined.

A week later, Lucas is browsing on Instagram, bored, flicking through stories like they're magazine pages, and he hits an update from Eliott, one that was just posted.

It's a screenshot from Spotify, but it disappears before Lucas can see what it is.

Lucas sits up, scrambling to get to Eliott's profile, tapping on his icon to view the story again.

Over the screenshot, Eliott wrote: _for you_.

He's not sure if he knows the song, but he looks it up, starts playing it in the quiet of his room.

_this is the first day of my life  
swear i was born right in the doorway_

Lucas sinks back down into his bed, smiling dreamily, clutching a pillow tight to his chest.

He lays like that until the very end.

_so if you wanna be with me_  
_with these things there's no telling_  
_we just have to wait and see_  
_but i'd rather be working for a paycheck_  
_than waiting to win the lottery_

_besides, maybe this time is different_  
_i mean, i really think you like me_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew, it's been a while since i've posted something. i was definitely out of my groove for a while, but hopefully this is me getting back into it! thanks for reading, friends :')))


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Manon bobs her head from side to side, humming. “No, it’s just something Eliott said. It made me wonder.”_
> 
> prompted by anon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, back in september someone on tumblr was asked exactly what eliott said to manon, before he and lucas became official
> 
> these mecs are so dear to my heart that i couldn't resist writing a little scene ❤️
> 
> (this absolutely does not fit in with canon's timeline re: daphy's birthday but shhhh it's an au)

“Can I ask you something?”

Manon looks up at him from where she’s cutting Daphné’s birthday cake into perfect, even slices. She smiles. “Sure.”

“What did, uh…” Lucas runs a hand over the back of his neck, focusing his gaze on where the _F_ in _Bonne Fête_ has been sliced in half. “Remember when you told me you thought there was something going on between me and Eliott? Because of something he said?”

Manon pokes her tongue into her cheek. “Yeah, I remember.”

She looks like she’s trying not to laugh, and Lucas would normally rather chew tinfoil than give her the satisfaction of being right, but it’s something he’s been wondering about for weeks, and he’s desperate. He drops his head to the counter. “Ugh. Just, what did he say?”

Manon presses her knife back into the cake, cutting another even slice. “I don’t know, Lucas. Maybe it was said to me in confidence. Do you want to break your boyfriend’s trust?”

“Ma _non_.”

She outright laughs now, reaching her free hand over to ruffle Lucas’s hair. “I’m just kidding. I’ll tell you. Although, I should warn you it’s not going to be nearly as juicy as you’re thinking.”

Lucas turns his head to the side, freeing one eye to peer up at her.

“So,” she starts. voice low and warm, “this is months before you two started dating, but it was the sort of thing that just…made me pay attention, you know?”

 _Months before_. The back of Lucas’s neck feels hot. “Okay.”

“It was—well, do you remember that week of classes you missed?”

Lucas does. It was a week at the end of May, when Lucas’s mom had a bad episode, and his dad had called him from Monte Carlo, asking if Lucas could check in on her because he was too busy. Lucas had already been having a stressful month, too preoccupied with his assignments, with the stress of trying to pay rent, with whatever the _fuck_ was going with his heart whenever Eliott Demuary was in the room. He’d become so anxious that he was barely sleeping, and when he went to go see his mom, and saw how poorly she was doing, he went pretty well over the edge. So, he took a week off. He slept for an entire day and spent hours with his mom at the clinic, and got his homework assignments from Yann. It had been a rough time for him, a breaking point from building stress, but it had also been, as the school counsellor says, an important step in him confronting stressors in his life, and healing.

All he says is, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Eliott asked me about it.”

Lucas snaps his head up. “What?”

“Yeah. I ran into him that day when I was leaving school. He was going to the skatepark or whatever, I don’t know.”

Lucas smiles without realizing it, fond.

“I go over to say hi to him, and we’re chatting about classes and whatnot when out of the blue, he asks me, ‘Where’s Lucas?’” She laughs, her imitation of Eliott’s voice exaggeratedly deep and seductive. “I was a bit confused, so I didn’t say anything, and he kept going. He said, ‘He just hasn’t been around this week, and I was wondering if he’s okay.’ And I think that’s nice, so I say, ‘He’s okay, he’s just dealing with some family stuff.’ That’s when he gets kind of shy, you know? And he says, ‘Does he need anything? Can I bring him something?’”

Lucas blinks at her.

“And I’m still kind of confused, but,” she raises an eyebrow at Lucas, “I think I’m starting to get it, so I tell him that he’s sweet, but he doesn’t have to do anything, that we’re all helping you. Because I think you would have lost your shit if I sent Eliott to go check on you.”

Lucas is sure he would have had a coronary, if in the middle of all of that, Eliott Demaury had shown up at his doorstep with a can of soup, or something.

“That was probably a good call,” he tells her.

Manon grins. “I thought so too.” She picks up a stack of paper plates and serves out slices of cake, passing them to Lucas to set aside on the table. “But this is the real thing that made me think. After I tell him that, he seems happy, but before I leave, he says, ‘It seems like Lucas is always taking care of others, doesn’t it? I want to know that someone is taking care of him.’”

And Lucas. He freezes, holding onto a paper plate with a _Princess and the Frog_ design on it, pink icing smeared onto his thumb. “He—” He pauses, swallows. “He said that?”

“Mhm.” Manon takes the plate from him and walks it to the table. “It was the way he said it, too, like he never believed anything in his life more, but he was also so nervous. It was like, just speaking your name, that made him shy. Lucas, from that alone…” She shrugs, rips open a box of plastic forks. “I knew he liked you. Or more than that, I knew he cared about you. At first I thought it was more than you cared about him, but then I saw the way you looked at him. And Emma and Yann started a bet on how long it would take you to bring him up in conversation.”

Lucas makes an undignified sound, a hand coming up to his chest. “They _what_?”

“You’re not subtle, Lucas. But really, neither is Eliott. You two are made for each other.” Manon turns to face him, holding two plates in her hands. “So, there you go. Now you know what he said.”

Lucas nods. His face is burning, and he’s biting down on the inside of his cheek. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Manon nods, and swans out of the room.

Lucas stays in the kitchen for a while alone, leaning back against the kitchen counter and staring at the wall across the room. He thinks about that week back in May, when everything had been too much for him, and all he wanted was for someone to hold him and say, _Lucas, it’s going to be okay_.

He hadn’t known that Eliott wanted to be that person the entire time.

 _I want to know that someone is taking care of him_.

He pushes away from the counter, wheeling out of the kitchen and into the throng of people in the hall, some dancing to a remix of a Dolly Parton song, some drinking on the sofa, some standing by the bar, but where is he, where is—

Eliott.

He’s near the stairs, talking to Arthur and drinking a can of Cherry Coke, listening to a story intently, one that involves a lot of hand gestures from Arthur, and is resulting in Eliott laughing so hard his eyes crinkle into little half-moons.

Lucas marches up behind him, making a face at Arthur when they lock eyes, but not stopping until he’s close enough to touch Eliott, close enough to wrap his arms around him from behind, burying his face between Eliott’s shoulder blades.

Eliott startles, then melts back against Lucas, running a hand over his arms. “Hi,” Eliott says, and his voice sounds like the most comfortable bed Lucas has ever slept in.

“Hi,” Lucas mumbles into his back. He kisses him though his t-shirt. “Hi.” He repeats, and kisses him again.

Eliott laughs, craning his neck back. “What’s going on?” When Lucas still doesn’t move, his voice becomes tinged with concern. “Are you okay?”

 _I want to know that someone is taking care of him_.

“M’fine,” Lucas says, smushed into Eliott’s back. “I love you.”

Neither of them have said it yet, both tiptoeing across a tightrope wire of _do you? i do_ for weeks. Or at least, Lucas has. He hopes Eliott has too, but even if he doesn’t. Lucas just wants him to know.

“Oh.” Eliott whispers, stilling.

Lucas peaks over his back and sees that Arthur has subtly ditched them for the dance floor, where he’s now grinding back against Yann to _Jolene_.

Then Eliott is turning in the circle of his arms, and Lucas’s vision is filled with nothing but Eliott: Eliott’s broad shoulders, his narrow waist, his green t-shirt, soft under Lucas’s hands, his beaming smile, his wide, blue-grey eyes.

“Lucas,” Eliott says, and he’s leaning down, pulling Lucas into a searing kiss that makes Lucas’s head spin, makes his knees feel like the melted icing of Daphné’s cake. “Lucas,” Eliott repeats, pulling back. “I love you too, _fuck_ , I love you. Oh my god.” They kiss again, but Eliott is babbling into it, and their teeth clack together. “Lucas, _oh my god_ , I’ve wanted to say that for so long, but I wasn’t sure you did too, and I didn’t want to—”

“I know.” Lucas interrupts him, smiling so wide his face hurts. “I was scared to tell you, too, but I...I love you. So much.”

Eliott laughs, pressing their foreheads together. “ _God_. Why are we like this?”

“You know, Manon says we’re made for each other.”

“Does she?”

Lucas nods, tilting his head back so he can see Eliott’s eyes. “She told me something else, too.”

And it’s only a second, but he can see a tightening around Eliott’s eyes, like he’s nervous all over again. “What did she tell you?”

“Something you said, a while ago. It’s okay, I just…” Lucas holds Eliott’s face in his hands, stands on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

Eliott exhales against him. “For what?”

“For taking care of me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for lucy, who prompted me a little white back to revisit this story 🌻
> 
> i keep forgetting to add these little additions here!!! i'm sorry!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've edited this a bit from it's original tumblr post, but it's still pretty informal and drabble-y
> 
> basically it's just a little headcanon for our skater boys - very fluffy and very silly

Since they’ve started dating, Eliott has kept bothering Lucas about learning how to properly skate. because he knows Lucas, he knows which buttons to push, egging him on until Lucas gets on the board out of spite, determined to show eliott that he 1) is exceptionally graceful 2) is better than eliott at everything and 3) looks really good on a skateboard.

But at some point, when they’re in the park, and Eliott is goading Lucas to try something new, Lucas falls, and he gets hurt. He scrapes his hands and his elbow, the knee of his jeans gets ripped open and the skin cut open, and there’s blood, enough of it that Eliott gets scared. He wants to call an ambulance, which is instantly shut down by Lucas, who’s sitting on the ground and he’s embarrassed, yes, but he’s definitely okay, and calling an ambulance would be _ridiculous, Eliott, i’m barely hurt_.

He hobbles all the way back to his apartment, with Eliott sadly dragging his skateboard behind him. Whenever Lucas winces in pain or stumbles at a spot on the sidewalk, Eliott is there, leaping over to Lucas’ side and his hands hovering over him. it would be annoying, Lucas thinks, if it was anyone else. but it’s not anyone else. It’s Eliott, sweet and concerned and probably blaming himself for the whole thing.

Sure enough, before they reach Lucas’ apartment, e starts apologizing.

"I’m sorry," he says. "This is my fault. Lucas I’m so sorry."

"Stop," Lucas tells him. "This isn’t anybody’s fault. It was an accident."

Eliott keeps going. "But I made you get on the board."

Lucas is shaking his head. "You didn’t make me do anything."

They’re at Lucas’ front door now, and Eliott is still apologizing, still following behind Lucas with his head lowered like he’s expecting punishment, and Lucas hates seeing him like that, and he has to stop him, so he grips tightly onto Eliott’s arm and he says, "Eliott please, what is really bothering you about this?"

Eliott stares at Lucas for an entire minute. His mouth is dropped open into a small _o_ , and his eyebrows are furrowed together, and Lucas doesn’t know what answer he’s expecting, but he’s certainly not expecting Eliott’s eyes to lower sheepishly to the ground, and for him to say, "I wasn’t there to catch you."

"Eliott," Lucas says, and it may be the softest, most affectionate thing he’s said in his entire life. "You can’t always be. You know that. But," his hand travels down Eliott’s arm so he can link their fingers together loosely, the scrape on his palm still sensitive. "The fact that you want to? that means everything to me."

The smile that Eliott makes in response is pure sunshine on a cloudy Paris afternoon, and Lucas really wants to kiss him, but he also really want to get a bandage, so he says, "Come on, Eli. Come on. You can help with the first aid."

They set up camp in Lucas’ bathroom and they manage to peel his jeans off together, Lucas making a mournful sound when Eliott folds them up and drops them into the garbage bin.

"I liked those jeans," Lucas complains.

Eliott nods solemnly while washing his hands at the sink. "They did make your butt look nice."

"They did, didn’t they?"

Eliott cleans Lucas’ leg, and the scrapes on his hands and elbow, then moves him to sit on the edge of the tub. He carefully applies neosporin to the cut on Lucas’ knee, then covers it with a massive band-aid he was able to find in the cabinet.

"The next time i go to the park," Lucas tells him when they’re done, "I’m going to look so legit with all my wounds."

Eliott smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "You don’t have to get on the board again if you don’t want to. I won’t ask you to anymore."

"No, come on." Lucas pokes him in the cheek. "Falling down is how you learn. Literally everybody says that."

"that’s true," Eliott sighs. He leans forward to press a soft kiss Lucas’ bandaged knee. "But i’m still sorry. I hate seeing you get hurt."

"I’m fine," Lucas says emphatically. "I really am." He runs a hand through Eliott’s hair, fingers catching in the thick strands. "Thank you, you know. For taking care of me. You’re always taking care of me."

Eliott’s cheeks are pink. "It’s nothing."

"It’s not nothing _._ " Lucas argues gently. He slides off of the tub and onto Eliott’s lap, the two of them curled together on Lucas’ shockingly bright lime green bath mat with band-aid wrappers and dirty cloths scattered around them. "I love you."

Eliott smiles, soft and happy, and he tucks his face into Lucas’ neck, "I love you too."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an alternate ending to chapter three, prompted by darling ella on tumblr 🌙

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place after they leave the party, after they get onto celeste, and right at the moment when gravity and balance fail them spectacularly

They take a spill a few minutes later, both of them hitting the pavement. It’s not too bad, they weren’t going too fast, but Lucas scrapes his elbow and Eliott scrapes his hand and his knee, and they both laugh about it as they right themselves, brushing dirt off of their jeans, nursing their wounds with exaggerated pouts, and still reaching for each other’s hands when they begin to walk the rest of the way, Eliott’s board tucked securely under his arm.

“I have band-aids at my place,” Eliott tells him. “I can patch you up.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” Lucas says with a sigh.

Eliott makes a face. “Are you implying that I’m not graceful?”

“I’m implying that you ride a death trap for fun. Also yeah, are you kidding me? You have the legs and the coordination of a baby horse.”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is _foal_ ,” Eliott says icily, his face is thrown into long shadow as they pass underneath a streetlight. He makes a show of dropping Lucas’ hand. “And if I’m not mistaken, I used to see you checking my legs out at the skatepark.”

Lucas blushes, but he shrugs, wincing when the motion pulls at the skin around his elbow. “Whatever.”

“ _Ohhh_ , no comeback, huh?” Eliott’s voice lowers to a whisper for an invisible audience. “It’s because it’s true.”

Lucas snorts, gently punching Eliott in the side and ducking down when he aims a swipe at his head.

“You say that when you used to always check out my ass at school. It was so obvious.”

“ _Used_ to?” Eliott leers at him and Lucas groans, batting him away and grinning when Eliott grips onto his hand, tugging it upwards so he can press a kiss to his knuckles.

“You’re hot,” Eliott says solemnly into his knuckles, and Lucas nods.

“I know.”

“Lucas. You’re supposed to say it back.”

“Eliott. You’re…” He squints at Eliott, who’s still pressing his lips to Lucas’ knuckles and it occurs to Lucas that they’ve stopped walking, on the edge of a small park, caught in the pale darkness between two streetlights. Lucas almost can’t see Eliott’s eyes like this, but he can feel them, a touch as tangible as soft lips to tender skin.

The longer they stand there, the more words Lucas thinks of. _You’re hot. You’re really, really hot. You’re sexy. You’re weird. You’re beautiful. You’re a dork. You’re so funny. You’re annoying. You’re so sweet. You’re amazing. You’re my favourite person._

“You’re okay,” Lucas says, but his voice is low and the words are heavy under the weight of what’s unsaid.

Eliott smiles at him like he can hear the rest of it on the gentle wind.

“Do you…” he says slowly, lowering Lucas’ hand but keeping their fingers linked together, “know the song ‘First Day of my Life’?”

Lucas’ brows furrow together. “No.” His eyes dance across the outline of Eliott’s face curiously. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t…” Lucas shrugs again. He gets the feeling he’s missing something important, and it makes him nervous. “Why?”

“Nah, it’s nothing. You should just…look it up sometime.”

Lucas squints at him again. “Why?” He draws the question out, long and teasing enough that Eliott laughs, turning forwards again and tugging Lucas along, brining them into another faerie’s ring of artificial light.

“Because it’s the song.” Eliott says on a giggle, and it takes Lucas a second, but when he gets it, he stops them again.

“The song? Like _the_ song? The one you posted about me?”

“Yeah.”

They’re grinning at each other, Lucas with a rush of excitement, bouncing onto his toes, Eliott with a touch of bashfulness, rocking back onto his heels.

Lucas takes a step closer to him. “How does it go?”

“Oh. Well, I mean, I can play it on my phone-”

Lucas shakes his head. “Can you sing it?”

Eliott’s eyes widen. He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “No fucking way.”

“Please.”

“Nope.”

“ _Please_.”

Eliott sighs, rolling his head back onto his neck.

“Those fucking eyes,” he groans, and Lucas giggles, taking another step closer.

“Please, Eliott?” He asks quietly. He bats his lashes slowly, the streetlight casting long shadows across his cheekbones. “For me?”

“Stop.” Eliott laughs. “As if you don’t already know I’d do anything for you.”

Lucas’ smile falls, just a little, and his free hand smoothes Eliott’s hair back from his forehead. “I’d like to hear it.” He says softly. “I mean it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, since you brought it up.”

“Fine.” Eliott shakes his head a little, eyes drifting down to Lucas’ lips, then back up. “Fine, okay.” He takes a small step back, Lucas’ hand falling to his shoulder as he bobs his head from side to side trying to pick up an internal melody.

“Okay, it goes something like, ‘ _this is the first day of my life_ …’”

Eliott doesn’t make it very far into the song without laughing, fudging the melody and forgetting the words, but Lucas stays silent, smiling and swaying them on the spot, and if anyone were to see them, a passerby taking their dog for a late night walk, a melancholic insomniac leaning out of their bedroom window for a cigarette, a poet watching from the fire escape, they would see two scraped-up boys slow dancing on the sidewalk, and they would hear, very, very faintly,

_so if you want to be with me, with these things there’s no telling, we’ll just have to wait and see, but i’d rather be working for a paycheck than waiting to win the lottery_

_besides maybe this time it’s different, i mean, i really think you like me_

**Author's Note:**

> thank you thank you thank you for reading <3
> 
> on tumblr [@lepetitepeach](https://lepetitepeach.tumblr.com)


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